


Pure Torture

by Imadra Blue (imadra_blue), Luthe



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-31
Updated: 2012-10-31
Packaged: 2017-11-17 10:29:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/550594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imadra_blue/pseuds/Imadra%20Blue, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luthe/pseuds/Luthe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Interesting things happen when Anakin tries to get Obi-Wan to help fix his new cybernetic arm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pure Torture

**Author's Note:**

> hlglne did a wonderful beta reading job, so any mistakes lie with us, not her.

Nothing ever seemed to work out right for Anakin lately, and his new cybernetic arm was no exception. He sighed as the arm froze up again, the hand motor fizzling out. He was trying to redirect the power wires to it to make it more efficient, but the fact that he was working with one hand and had several rods of durasteel and a few power cords to work around didn't help.

Desperate to get his hand fixed, Anakin looked around his small quarters. He and Obi-Wan were on the Republic cruiser _Maximus_ , heading back to Coruscant. The quarters he had to share with Obi-Wan were officer's quarters. There was only one bed and one 'fresher, but the bed was big enough for two, so comparatively they were quite comfortable.

The 'fresher door slid open, and Obi-Wan walked into the room, wearing a soft robe. He had a towel draped over his shoulders, and his hair was wet. The robe had parted to reveal a bit of Obi-Wan's chest, and he seemed to have just trimmed his beard – it was even and cut close to the skin. Anakin tried not to stare, reminding himself he was married to a beautiful woman. He didn't need to keep his old attraction to his Master.

They'd just left the sweltering jungles of Badaria, having finally managed to recover the planet from the Separatist forces. It was their first mission together since the beginning of the war, and furthermore, it was the first mission Anakin and Obi-Wan had gone on and _not argued_. Maybe it was because Anakin was still riding post-wedded bliss. Maybe it was because Obi-Wan had got lucky with one of the pilots.

"What's wrong, Anakin? You're staring," Obi-Wan said, not looking up from the datapad he'd plucked off a table.

Anakin came to life, rolling his shoulders. He held up his twitching hand. "Bad motor. I'm having trouble working on it."

"Well, if you needed help, you should have just asked." Obi-Wan put the datapad back down and walked over. He brought with him the sweet, subtle smell of miope soap. Anakin managed not to close his eyes as he inhaled it. "What do you need done?"

"Just hold this apart, Master," Anakin said, pointing to power cords blocking his path to the motor. "And be careful."

Obi-Wan sighed. "I'm always careful," he said, slipping his fingers between the cords and pulling them apart. Anakin's nerve sensors registered a light tickle, but the action looked obscene, as if Obi-Wan had slid his fingers into…

Swallowing as he attempted to shake off the thought, Anakin snatched the gyropick off the table. "Keep holding it," he ordered, sliding the gyropick between the wires, peering into his wrist to try and reconnect the wires. It met one wire, which he unhooked. "Okay, got it. Now, move your pinky down and unhook the thin, green wire."

Obi-Wan did so, but as his finger scraped downwards, the fingernail caught on the red power router, and he cracked the delicate machinery as he kept moving.

"Fuck!" Anakin cried as his hand spasmed once, and then fell limp on the table, as lifeless and useless as a string of beads.

Obi-Wan froze, his eyes very wide. He swallowed and looked at Anakin apologetically. "I, um, ah… oops?"

"'Oops?'" Anakin's voice was too loud, but he didn't care. "I have to replace that router now. And I have to wait until we get to Coruscant. If you weren't so clumsy, I would have a working hand."

"Well, you must have moved," Obi-Wan responded, cold as midnight on Hoth, "because I was fine at first. Besides, the whole problem started when you ripped your covering off to tinker with the thing."

"I didn't move!"

"You did."

"Didn't."

"Did."

"Didn't!"

"Di— I'm not having this argument with you, Anakin. We're both too old for this. Fine, I'm sorry. Is there anything I can do to help?"

Anakin stared longingly at the 'fresher door, reflecting on the beautiful wank he'd been looking forward to that evening, now ruined. It had been far too long since he'd been able to touch Padmé, and he never could wank with his left hand. It felt even more unnatural than a metal hand on his cock.

"No, I'll be fine. It's only two days, right?" Anakin said mournfully, standing up. It was going to be a very long two days.

Anakin got progressively more irritated at the dead weight that was his right hand. He could still use the arm, of course, but it was nothing without the hand. To make matters even worse, he was still horny and had no way of doing anything about it. There was one thing Obi-Wan would be able to do to make it better, but Anakin was positive that asking for a handjob wouldn't go over well, so he kept it to himself. Such was the state of things when he lay down for bed that night.

"Move over," he snapped at Obi-Wan, trying to find a position in which he didn't have to sleep on a useless lump of durasteel and wires.

Obi-Wan moved over without complaint, perhaps out of a sense of guilt. He put himself at the edge, allowing Anakin to stretch out.

Anakin tossed and turned. He couldn't find a way to lie so that his arm wasn't pressing into his skin uncomfortably. And he couldn't turn toward Obi-Wan, because their combined smells on the bed were giving him an erection. If Obi-Wan hadn't destroyed the power router in his arm, he wouldn't be having these problems. He swore silently at the horrid situation.

Obi-Wan sighed and sat up. "It's just a hand. You can sleep without feeling in your hand, Anakin," he said, annoyed.

"Would you like to sleep on a lump of durasteel? I have one you can borrow." Anakin's tone was deeply sarcastic. He was not in a good mood.

"So move it. You can still move the arm a bit. Sleep on your other side."

Anakin shifted uncomfortably, for reason that had nothing to do with his arm. "I can't."

"Why not? Do you want a sleeping pill?"

Anakin flushed slightly. "I don't think the sleeping pill would help," he ground out.

"Why not?"

"It won't take care of the problem." Anakin really needed to get back to Coruscant. And his wife.

Obi-Wan sighed and rubbed his forehead. "I'm sorry about the hand, but I fail to see what your problem is. It's not _that_ bad."

"I need to use my hand."

"For what?"

Anakin flushed more deeply this time. "It's personal." Anakin hadn't talked to Obi-Wan about sex since the very awkward conversation they had when he was fourteen. He hadn't been sure who had gone redder in the face before they'd finished.

"Anakin, we're both adults. If you need help using the 'fresher, I'll help you and it will go no further."

Anakin suddenly wished he were somewhere, anywhere else. "I'm fine with using the 'fresher," he said. "I don't need help with that."

The thought of Obi-Wan's hand on his cock in any context was making his erection harder -- and harder to get rid of.

"Then just tell me what the problem is. I'll help you. We are supposed to be a team now."

"Master, if I told you, you wouldn't want to help me." Anakin's anger was being bled off by the sheer mortification of having to discuss the state of his cock with Obi-Wan.

"Fine. Then stop wiggling around, and let me sleep."

Anakin found a position to lie in, but he didn't sleep. He thought about what it would be like to have Obi-Wan touch him. When he did fall asleep, he dreamt of Obi-Wan's hands, so clean and well-shaped.

The dream felt so real. Anakin could almost feel the warm flesh close around his cock, the length of Obi-Wan's leg against his, the sharp pleasure of friction against his cock as he rubbed himself against Obi-Wan's palm, and --

" _Anakin_!"

Anakin woke suddenly to discover he had been rubbing himself against Obi-Wan's leg. That was probably why the dream felt so real. He backed away from Obi-Wan, all the blood that had been in his cock rushing to heat his face. "Sorry sorry sorry," he said.

Obi-Wan glared at him through the gloom of their room. "At least have the decency to go to the 'fresher and take care of that so long as we're sharing a bed."

All of Anakin's embarrassment vanished under a tide of sheer aggravation. "I can't! You took care of that!"

"You have two hands. Use the other one."

Anakin looked at him, wondering if he was crazy. "Do _you_ switch hands, Master?"

Obi-Wan rolled his tongue against his cheek. "No. But then, I've never been in such a situation. Make do."

"I've tried. It's not the same. It doesn't work."

"Then, to put it crudely, hump a pillow. Not my leg."

"I told you that you wouldn't want to help me."

Obi-Wan stared. "Want to help you... what exactly are you suggesting?"

"You said earlier you would help me if I asked. I didn't think you would be interested in getting me off."

There was dead silence. The hazy blue light of hyperspace made Obi-Wan look pale, as well as shocked. On second thought, Anakin realized the light of hyperspace had nothing to do with the shocked part. "That would be... highly inappropriate."

"Do you have a better idea, or should I grab your pillow now?"

"Wait." Obi-Wan held up a hand. "Are you saying you want me to... to… well, you know?"

"Yes, Master." Anakin was actually more excited than he should have been about the prospect. He loved Padmé, he truly did, but in truth, he loved Obi-Wan just as much. And right now, Padmé was light years away, while Obi-Wan was only centimeters from him.

Obi-Wan seemed more baffled than disgusted or upset. After a moment, he backed up an inch, his expression wary now. "Why?"

Anakin ran through a list of possible explanations before settling on one. "I've had a crush on you since I was fifteen."

Obi-Wan looked away. "Oh," was all he said.

Anakin's stomach dropped. He should have known Obi-Wan wasn't interested in him. "I can sleep on the floor if you want."

Just as Anakin turned away, Obi-Wan captured him by his durasteel wrist. He had an almost thoughtful look when Anakin looked back at him. "You know... you're almost a Jedi Knight."

Anakin frowned. "So?"

"Talk to me about this after I cut your braid. Until then, I'll sleep on the floor."

Obi-Wan grabbed his pillow and a blanket and moved to the floor. Anakin stared at him open-mouthed as Obi-Wan built himself a sort of nest of blankets and lay down.

Then Anakin smiled, suddenly looking forward to becoming a Jedi Knight more than ever. Even if the rest of the night would be pure torture.


End file.
